Until the Day I Die
by kurodemoncat
Summary: Arthur wakes up in a hotel room next to Alfred, who doesn't remember anything that happened since before they even met. Arthur tries to do whatever he can to bring back his memories and tries to find out how he even lost them.
1. Prologue

"Are you sure it's here?"

"Positive! There's no doubt in my mind…"

"…What is it?"

"I thought I heard something from up there."

"…"

"Well, I don't hear anything. C'mon, let's keep searching."

"…

"…thur…and…"

"Did you hear it that time?"

"What?"

"It sounded like…a voice."

"Well, what is it saying?"

"I'm not certain, but I think it's whispering…"

"Ar..thur…Kirk..land…"

"…my name."

"Are you sure you aren't imagining things like you always do, like your imaginary friends?"

"No, it's not like that, and they aren't imaginary! All I hear is a voice; I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Maybe it's just the wind. Now come ON, let's look for what we came here for!"

"*sigh* Alright."

"…"

"I still can't find—wait…this is…"

"What is it? Did you find it?"

"What the bloody—"

"What? What?"

"AAAAUUGGHH!"

"Arthur!"


	2. Chapter 1

I wake up to the sound of rain tapping on the window, feeling stranger than usual. I'm still groggy and I don't have my eyes open yet, but it feels like I had been asleep for a really long time. Well, I know that I sleep in most days, but I just have a feeling that I was out for more than 12 hours. I slightly shake my head to try and wake up a little more and also to dismiss that feeling.

I open my eyes and expect to see the usual sight of my dresser in my bedroom with the mirror standing on top of it that usually reflects back my sleepy appearance at me.

However, instead of that usual scene, the first thing that I see is a pile of yellow fur sitting right in front of my face. And since I'm not usually a morning person it takes me a while to contemplate this unusual sight in my bed. After a moment, though, my mind finally registers it.

Like a reflex, I reach behind me to grab the closest object to me—a wooden chair—and throw it hard at the creature. It shatters on contact and all I'm left with holding are two splintered leg pieces. _Yikes. _I mean, I've heard from a few people that I don't know my own strength, but I didn't intentionally want to smash the chair into pieces. But, hey, wouldn't anyone else have reacted the same way if they saw an oversized caterpillar in their bed?

Still holding on to the couple of pieces of splintered wood I stare down at the yellow bug. It twitches and I flinch back, though I don't take another whack at it. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest to form a defensive shield and move to the edge of the bed. How can this caterpillar still be alive after a chair came down on it and broke into hundreds of pieces? I gasp as a realization comes to me. It's probably a mutant caterpillar that came from outer space that's here to eat me alive! Well, I'm certainly not going to let it!

I jump out from under the covers, off the bed, and to the other side of the room. I don't press against to the wall, though, because I'm not a coward. I'm only pretending to be so that when the beast comes at me, that's when I'll psyche it out and bring it to its knees—er…whatever giant caterpillars fall down on. I'm not actually scared.

Yes. This is my chance to finally prove to everyone that I'm a hero! But wait a second... Who is "everyone"?

Unfortunately, I don't have a second to wait, because the yellow caterpillar starts moving its fuzzy head towards me to reveal its face and…_really_ thick eyebrows.

Wait. Eyebrows? Do caterpillars have eyebrows? I hadn't though so until now.

After taking a closer look at it as it turns around, though, I see that it's actually not a giant, fuzzy, yellow caterpillar at all, but a boy. A blonde boy with _super_ huge eyebrows.

* * *

_That_ is what I call a rude awakening. Well, I suppose that I am quite a heavy sleeper and need a little force to wake me out of my unconsciousness, but a chair to the head is a little over the top for my taste.

I force my eyelids open and take in what I see: white. At first I think that I actually am not awake, just still unconscious or dying even, but I rotate my head a little and begin to see more than just that one colour.

The room has bright white walls with big sections painted red and green. The furniture is just as bright and white, and the carpet is a luscious green that also matches the green on the wall. It reminds me of how grass looks on a bright and sunny day that I hardly ever get to experience.

On the table next to the bed are a pair of glasses and a small simply-framed photo. The photo is a headshot of a tough-looking man with blonde, slick-backed hair and harsh, blue eyes. His features are very rough and defined, but his expression holds a softer and more sympathetic look. I don't recognise him and immediately start wondering whose room I'm in.

In front of the window, on the other side of the room, stands a much younger boy than the one in the photo. He also has blonde hair, but it's a bit longer and deeper in colour, and his eyes are a vibrant blue that are slightly shadowed by his position facing away from the sun.

That's when I'm reminded about the glasses on the table next to the photograph. They're his, and I'm not making any assumptions. I know. After all, he is my boyfriend.

* * *

**A/N: **My first fanfic I'm submitting here!~ *cue cheering* ...I'm submitting two chapters today because 1) the first was an prologue and it's very short, and 2) I had the time to. I might be uploading a chapter every week or so, just a heads up to you readers. I hope you'll enjoy reading this. Reviews are much appreciated~


	3. Chapter 2

The boy looks up at me, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Alfred," he says while picking up his hand to rub the corners of his eyes, "what is this place?"

I sort of shift my weight from foot to foot, wondering how this guy knows my name, and fiddle around with my hands and suddenly notice the shards of wood I'm still holding. Since he turns out not being an oversized caterpillar, I chuck the pieces aside as he takes the time to rub his eyes clear of sleepies.

He looks back up at me with clear and fully open eyes. They seem a little fuzzy, though, and I notice my glasses on the table next to him. I reach over to grab them, but he beats me to them. I take them from him and put them on. Everything's a lot clearer now. The boy's eyes are really green. No, I mean, like _really_ green. They seem to be as bright as the green color on the carpet and walls. They match the same shine and hue as emeralds have. They almost make up for those ridiculous eyebrows sitting right above them. Almost.

The boy chuckles a little. "You're unusually quiet this morning. Don't you want to say something?" His voice—he has a British accent, I think—catches me a little off guard, and of course, I say the first thing right at the top of my head.

"E-Er…I mean—_wow_, you have really huge eyebrows!"

He also gets caught a little off guard and his face gets a little pink when another person abruptly enters the room with barely a pause after knocking.

"Wakey, wakey, you two—oh!" A young woman with steaming-hot food on a tray has a nice smile on her face when she appears around the door. She has long, brown hair that isn't too straight but sort of wavy, and she has a bright-colored flower behind her right ear. Her eyes are green, but somehow they don't shine as brightly as the British boy's eyes, even though she's standing directly in the sunlight.

She's wearing a simple green and white maid's outfit, so maybe we're in some sort of hotel, also basing off of the tray of food she's holding.

"You're both awake," she smiles, walking towards the bed. She has a slight German accent. As she sets down the tray on the end of the bed opposite of the blonde, she says, "I thought for sure you'd both still be sleeping."

The girl pauses for a moment and looks at both of us. I'm trying not to stare, or even look much, at the boy on the bed and his bushy eyebrows, and I think he still has a slight blush left on his cheeks.

"Um…" We both look at her. "Am I interrupting something?" We both glance down at a point on the grassy-looking carpet.

The green-eyed boy coughs. "No, not at all." His accent sounds nice. Maybe it's because he's British, and British accents always sound cool. I'm not the only one who thinks that, right?

The girl slowly nods and glances between us. Then she shakes her head as if to dismiss a thought. "I am sorry. I should introduce myself. I am Elizabeta Herdevary, and I am the assistant manager here at the I Am Awesome and You're Not Motel." We both look at her with raised eyebrows. She rolls her eyes. "I didn't come up with the name. If you prefer, you may just call it Gilbert's Motel."

The boy sits up in the bed and sort of straightens himself up, rubbing down his ruffled shirt and straightening out his ruffled hair. "I'm Arthur Kirkland. It's nice to meet you."

_Arthur Kirkland_. Why does that name sound familiar? I look at his face for another moment—ignoring those eyebrows—to see if I remember seeing him somewhere. He raises his eyebrows, though, so my attention momentarily flies to them, but then I notice Elizabeta still here and realize that I still need to introduce myself.

"Alfred F. Jones," I say with a grin.

* * *

"It's nice to meet you both, Arthur and Alfred," Elizabeta says while nodding at each of us. "You will be staying here in Feliciano's room until you feel better. He was the only one nice enough to volunteer to lend you his room for a while." A smile starts creeping from the corners of her mouth. "Besides, I don't think he minds at all, since he's sharing Ludwig's room now."

"Oh, Feliciano and Ludwig are staying here?" I ask. I remember those two, but we only met a few weeks ago on the outskirts of town. Alfred was with me when they saw us. We were traveling somewhere where Alfred wanted to tag along with me. He always does that, like a little puppy.

Feliciano and Ludwig were also traveling together, but they seemed to have gotten lost on their journey. We pointed them towards the town, and in return, Feliciano gave us a pot of extra ravioli that he made. He's naturally Italian—that's why the room we're staying in is mostly red, green, and white—and Ludwig, I recall, is German. I can vaguely remember what they look like, though.

"_Ja_," Elizabeta responds. "Are you friends with them?"

"Well, no." I grab a hot bagel from the tray that she placed on the bed. "We just met them on the road a little while ago."

As I am about to nibble on the bagel, I notice that Alfred is still in the same spot on the opposite side of the room. He hadn't even made a step toward the tray of food that would normally have been devoured by now and in his pit of a stomach.

I gesture him over and try not to think about something that could be bothering him. That's one of the last things I want to be doing. "Alfred, you remember Feliciano and Ludwig, right?" I take a bite of my bagel.

I'm not certain if I'm reading his expression correctly, but he looks a bit spooked; his eyes are wide open and his body language shows a similar idea to wanting to not get closer to me.

"No," Alfred finally manages, his eyebrows narrowing slightly with his eyes still held wide open. "I don't know them, and I don't know you."

I blink a few times and momentarily stop chewing on the bagel. I then swallow and let out a little snicker. "Wow, nice one, Alfred," I say sarcastically. "You nearly had me with that one." I turn my head and take another bite out of the bagel.

"No, seriously." He gulps audibly. "I've never seen you in my entire life."

I almost make a retort, playing along with his little game. But when I look back at him and open my mouth to speak, I freeze.

Besides the hint of fear, Alfred's eyes hold a seriousness and intensity that it almost paralyses me. I can't see any trace of happiness that I became familiar with for several years that used to always show on Alfred's young face. Now, all I see is confusion and an unfamiliar expression that rivals that of when I had first met him. When we were only children.

I turn my whole body to face him. My mind takes a moment to register what Alfred just said, "_I've never seen you in my entire life_," and I finally realise how serious this moment just got.

The only thing I say next barely comes out as a whisper. "What?"

* * *

**A/N: **I know I sort of promised a week until another upload, but I remembered that I would have been away on a field trip until Sunday. So you got lucky.

I really don't know how long this will end up being. I was expecting a few chapters, but with the plot I've made up I think it's going to be a bit longer.

And just to clear things up for those who are a little confused, the first part is in Alfred's POV and the second is in Arthur's, and it will be that way for probably most of the story. Reviews are appreciated always~ (Unless, of course, you're a wandering troll who wants to hate on everybody and make me hate you. You'll regret it if you ever do that.)


	4. Chapter 4

The blonde boy, Arthur, sits on the edge of the bed and just sort of stares at me with what I assume if unbelief. His green eyes are wide open and looking or searching for answers that I can't really explain to his unspoken questions. I can see that there are many forming in his head, but he never says any of them aloud.

I glance at Elizabeta, who I almost forgot was still here, to try and find some sort of answer as well. She isn't much help, as I expect, as she nonchalantly twirls around a frying pan on her left hand that I didn't even realize she was holding before and looks up at the ceiling. _What does she have a frying pan for when she's not even cooking anything? _I think, slightly distracted.

I focus back on the more serious issue at hand, and, I have to be completely honest, I am completely but mentally freaking out. I suddenly wake up in some motel in a room with a boy next to me who thinks he knows me after I mistook him as a giant caterpillar and smashed a chair on his head.

Hold on…. Wait, that's it! He's probably just thinking these strange things because I hit his head really hard. I gasp at my realization, making Elizabeta and Arthur jump. Without thinking, I run over towards Arthur and stare at him. I feel like asking him some sort of question to prove my hypothesis is right. But I don't have a clue what to ask him. I don't even know this guy at all!

So, because I'm so excited all of a sudden, I immediately just burst out, asking, "What's the last thing you remember?"

Of course, his first reaction involves him furrowing his eyebrows and saying, "Huh?"

"What's the last thing you remember," I repeat, "you know, before you woke up here?"

He looks at me a little longer with the same look on his face, but it wavers and his face softens. He lowers his gaze to think about it, and his face appears fiercer as his concentration grows. I half expect him to say that he doesn't remember anything at all and that I would jump up and yell at him for accusing me for losing _my_ memory, but I try to compose myself for a little while longer as he rummages through his memory.

"Well…" he finally speaks, but he gets interrupted by Elizabeta.

"When I found you, you were both unconscious outside of the cave."

We both pause and look up at her simultaneously. Arthur now has a mystified expression, and I probably have the same.

"Huh?" I mimic Arthur.

"When I found you—" she starts again, but this time, Arthur interrupts her.

"What are you talking about? That's nonsense! I've never even been near any cave recently."

_Well, at least he knows that much_, is my first thought, but there's something deeper in his expression that still bothers me. I'm not sure exactly what's different, but it just doesn't match how his words are spoken. He seems uncertain about something.

I stare at him as Elizabeta's words sink in. So she found both of us—together—outside of some sort of cave? …What the hell? I agree with Arthur; what _is_ she talking about?

"I have no idea what you're talking about either," I say, glancing up at her and vigorously shaking my head.

I see Arthur's head move from the corner of my eye, and I look at him to see him watching me. His dark green eyes are examining my face now, filling with…what? Concern? Apprehension? Uneasiness? And just then, I realize that he and I agreed on it just now. But more importantly, I realize that I just admitted that I don't remember anything relating to what Elizabeta just told us. Which means that I'm wrong. And therefore, I have lost my memory.

…Unless Elizabeta is lying. She can be—I don't even know the woman. "Are you—" My voice sounds hoarse, and I clear my throat. "Are you lying to us?"

She looks up at me and furrows her brows. "_Nein_," she answers in German. "Why would I make that up?"

"Well, it's just that I don't really know you, and you could tell us any…" I trail off as I look at Elizabeta leisurely raise her frying pan to rest on top of her shoulder. I blink and actually consider the image of her swinging it around as a very dangerous weapon and hitting me continuously with it.

She scoffs, "Well, how else do you think you two got here?"

"I…" Possibilities flutter around in my head, but none of them are that realistic-sounding. _Maybe I should stop reading comic books_, I think, but I mentally shake off the thought and physically shrug my shoulders. I really can't accept the idea of losing my memory. I try to think of _something_ before now that I remember: what I last ate, who I last talked to, the last time I was out of the house. _Anything. _

Absolutely nothing comes to mind.

I stand there in the middle of the room. I stare down at the floor in front of my feet. I can feel a drop of sweat sneak down myface._ Why can't I remember anything? Why?_

Arthur says something from the edge of his seat on the bed. I can't hear him. _Why?_

He gets up. He takes a step closer to me. He reaches out his hand.

_Why can't I—_

I feel a grasp on my arm. "Alfred?"

I jerk my arm back, releasing his grip, and stare at Arthur's face. His eyes are searching me again, looking for a trace of…something. Recognition, maybe. His eyebrows are tilted upward, worry clear in his expression. I don't know this boy. Why does he claim that he knows who I am? Who is he? Why can't I _remember_?

Without a word or thought, I back away and head for the door. Elizabeta and Arthur call out to me, but I don't pause for one second. I need some air, some space. I turn around into the hallway and start running. I need to get away from everything.

"Alfred, wait!" I call out to him, but he's already too far away for my words to reach him. I walk out steadily to the green, white, and red door and look down the hallway. I silently curse myself for reaching out to grab him too quickly. He was obviously very confused and probably panicking inside. His shaking hands and wide eyes were very evident. I slam my fist on the door frame.

"Give him some time alone."

I glance back at Elizabeta, who is trying to show a reassuring smile and takes a few careful steps towards me. "I'm not sure exactly what's going through his head, but I think he'll sort it out in time."

I stare down the bright hallway again, at the long Persian carpet covering the entire floor, up at the small but elegant chandeliers hanging several feet apart, and at each door that have different combinations of colours painted over them. I hear the dull sound of a door slam, but nothing else comes after that except for the continuing drizzle of raindrops on the roof.

I close my eyes and mutter, "Did he actually forget who I am?" I didn't really think it was possible—I hadn't even considered it—that my own boyfriend could actually forget who I was. How is that even possible?

"Well." I feel a sudden pat on my shoulder. "I have to get back to work." I open my eyes and glance at Elizabeta as she starts down the hallway, carrying her frying pan with both hands.

"Wait," I reach out to her without thinking. I don't even know why I'm stopping her. "Do you…think he'll come back?"

The look of worry on my face is clearly evident because she stares back at me with a look of defeat. She shakes her head a couple of times, and I expect her to say that she doesn't think so, but instead she replies, "Where else could he run off to? He doesn't remember where he is, right?" And with that, she continues her way down the stairs, and I don't move until her bright hairpin disappears from my sight.

I slowly start moving my feet forward, one step at a time, thinking about this tragic incident that is happening. Why is this happening to me, and how did it even happen? Have I done something to deserve this? Has Alfred? And what about that cave that Elizabeta mentioned where she found us unconscious? What exactly happened there?

My walk down the hallway eventually brings me to one of the many colourful doors in it. It's the one with a trio of vertical gold, red, and black stripes; it looks exactly like the German flag, except flipped over ninety degrees. In fact, I almost hadn't noticed the door to the room we were just in has thick, horizontal green, white, and red stripes on it, which resembles the Italian flag, also flipped ninety degrees.

Just then, I hear a quick patter of footsteps from down the stairs, followed by a clatter of metal falling on the floor and a high voice shouting, "Oh, _ciao_, Elizabeta! Sorry about that," and a young boy shortly appears at the top of the stairs shouting with the same voice, "Ludwig! Ludwig!"

I take in his appearance quickly as he continues to run down the hallway towards me: he has short, brown hair that has a single strand of hair curling out of it from the side; his eyes are almost closed, but I think they're also brown; he's wearing a white vest with blue trousers; and he isn't wearing any shoes or socks.

And now he's approaching too closely, and I think he's about to run straight into me; it's all I'm thinking about, actually, because he's running so fast that I have barely much time to catch my breath—

The boy tries to dodge me, but he rams into me, and I stagger backwards and slam into the wall beside me. He notices me and the hurtful sound I made when I hit the wall, and he runs up to me, concerned and still panting from his run up the stairs. "_Mi scusi_," he says in Italian, "Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? Do you need me to get Elizabeta and—"

"No, no, I'm all right," I lie. _Yes, I'm hurt. You practically bulldozed your thick head into my side!_

He sighs and drops his shoulders in relief. "Thank goodness!" He looks up at me and gives me a calm smile, and it looks like he's about to say something. But a flash of recognition shows on his face, and his shoulders lift back up again as his excitement flares up again. "Wait, I know you! I _know_ you! Uhm…what's your name again? Alexander? No…Allie? No…Artie? No—Oh! Arthur! Right? Your name's Arthur?"

"Ah, yes. Do I know you?"

"Yes!" The boy's smile falls slightly, and he points to himself. "Feliciano? You were with someone else—Alfred, was it?—when Ludwig and I met you while we were traveling together, and you showed us the way towards town."

I recover the memory completely as he explains it to me. "Ah, yes," I say again, "I remember now."

"Whew," he breathes in relief again. "That's good. So how are you and Alfred? Where is he? Ludwig and I are doing fine together. He's just in that room behind that door. I just came upstairs to see him and—Ah! _Ludwig_!" He jumps up and charges into the door, runs into the room, followed by more pattering of footsteps and a springy sound as if someone were jumping on a bed, all the while shouting Ludwig's name in between his panting. I'm still a little dazed from when the short Italian boy rammed into me, but I recover as my gaze follows to where he ran off to.

I peek around the door frame to find Feliciano actually jumping on top of the bed—on top of _Ludwig_ on the bed. I assume it's Ludwig, at least, because of his angry, red face, blonde hair, blue—almost red—eyes, and his mouth shouting curses at the smaller Italian boy. I don't understand a word of what he's shouting, probably because it's in German. (He even sounds like an angry German man would sound: harsh, intense, and as if he'll point a gun at you at any moment if you even dare to interrupt or argue with him.) I mean, I know I've met him before, and he was certainly a whole lot nicer back then than he is now, but I just want to get away from him before he blows some sort of gasket inside of him and goes on a rampage, chasing that poor Italian lad until he meets a cruel fate.

But right before I start to turn around and sneak away, Feliciano's foot must have gotten caught on the sheets because he suddenly tumbles forward onto Ludwig. Ludwig then releases a screech but is stopped abruptly as his mouth gets covered by Feliciano's lips. I blink at first, but when the incident registers in my head, I swiftly look away. At first there's an awkward silence, but it quickly gets filled again by the sound of…kissing? My curiosity gets the best of me, so I glance back and find that they are, in fact, kissing. I wasn't expecting something like this to happen, but I seem mesmerised somehow by the sight of their lips locked together, and I can't look away.

Their actions aren't intense, but their expressions are filled with passion. I see hands fumbling over each other's arms and shoulders and getting tangled in each other's hair. Occasionally, their eyes flutter open momentarily just to close right away and be consumed again by desire. Sometimes I can catch a peek of one of their tongues each time they catch their breath, and I'll hear a whisper of their names right before they make contact again. My trance gets broken, however, when I notice Ludwig's hand travel down Feliciano's chest, below his abdomen, and I jerk myself away from the door before I start seeing more than enough.

I become vaguely aware of the flush that's creeping up my neck towards my face and of my unusually quick breathing pattern. A bead of sweat also begins running down the side of my face until it reaches the corner of my mouth, and it tastes salty when I lick it. I swallow and exhale quietly, turn down the hallway, and find a restroom at the opposite end. I swiftly retreat into it to calm myself down and take care of another small matter that I also noticed along the way. I pray a silent thanks that no one else is in there before me, and I lock the door to make sure no one intrudes upon my dishevelled state.

* * *

**A/N: **I...I..I'm sorry. *goes in a corner* (I apologise that this took so long. T~T)

(my first time ever writing a make-out scene)

..Do you think the pace is speeding up, yet? /shot


End file.
